


I've Woken Up On One Too Many Floors (But My Favourite Is Yours)

by Unknown



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: I swear it's les mis the modern day musical, M/M, Modern Era, Song Lyrics, but it has songs in it, so feel free to sing along, this is not a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/pseuds/Unknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Enjolras: My mistress is Patria<br/>Grantaire: *sings* if you change your mind, I'm the first in line...<br/>Grantaire: Honey I'm still free<br/>Grantaire: take a chance on me"</p><p>and also:<br/>'imagine enjolras singing “after the storm” to grantaire'</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Woken Up On One Too Many Floors (But My Favourite Is Yours)

**Author's Note:**

> Found this [here](http://slartibantfarts.tumblr.com/post/61448074713/enjolras-my-mistress-is-patria-grantaire) and [here](http://domtaire.co.vu/post/74287722945/imagine-enjolras-singing-after-the-storm-to) on tumblr. Decided to give it a shot and it got a bit longer than I originally intended. Here's to saying FUCK YOU to homework with fanfiction about two gay, dead, french revolutionaries.

It starts with Enjolras getting fed up with Courfeyrac asking if he will ever settle down or get a boyfriend or  _have sex for once in your life, God-damn-it Enjolras, do something nice for yourself!_ There is a split moment of anger and then Enjolras snaps, “My mistress is  _Patria_ ! And that is the end of  _that_ !”

It is rude and harsh and Enjolras will not regret it later on because it makes Courfeyrac shut the hell up, and wasn’t that the point anyway? In any case, no one is expecting Courfeyrac to respond. Hell, no one is expecting _anyone_ to respond. As usual, the unexpected happens.

“If you change your mind, I’m the first in line. Honey I’m still free, take a chance on me.” Enjolras’ head snaps to the back of the Musain and there is Grantaire, sitting up with a sketchbook in his hands, a grin on his face as he sings in a deep baritone, hitting the notes perfectly. “If you need me, let me know, gonna be around. If you got no place to go, when you’re feeling down.”

Enjolras blinks. “Grantaire,” he says carefully. “Normally, I would not bother to ask but… what the hell are you doing?”

Grantaire’s smile widens.

_

Later on, he has no one to go down one of the boulevards and pass out flyers. It is troubling and Courfeyrac is still a bit cross at him for yelling so he has opted to tag along with Jehan instead of taking his own route. Which means Grantaire has an empty boulevard.

“I need someone to go down the Barrier Du Maine with these,” he calls out as everyone is grabbing coats and getting ready to leave. His stomach twists up in knots when Grantaire’s hand goes up. “What, you?” Enjolras says, more wary than surprised.

And Grantaire starts with the singing again. Enjolras should have known better. “Take a chance on me. Gonna do my very best and it ain't no lie. If you put me to the test, if you let me try.” He shrugs and Enjolras will admit he has a lovely singing voice. But he has had enough of singing for the day. He shoves the flyers at Grantaire, ignoring the look of surprise on the man’s face.

“Yes, yes, go,” he babbles. As long as Grantaire leaves and gets that stupid song away from Enjolras and out of his head.

And yet, the smile Enjolras gets is blinding, and he finds himself wondering if he can ever bring it out again.

* * *

A week or two later, a bit of a fight breaks out between Montparnasse and Grantaire, and while Enjolras admits it is completely Montparnasse’s fault, Grantaire needs to knock it the fuck off before someone gets seriously hurt. He had never known Grantaire could fight so well, so professional and  _deadly._

He’s the one in charge of handling Grantaire, first because he’s the leader and also because Grantaire doesn’t listen to _anyone_ but Enjolras. He is standing in front of the man who keeps trying to barge through him, by the way, and suddenly there is no way for Enjolras to stop him but to give him a bit of a punch in the mouth. Grantaire lands on his arse, a surprised look on his face, but he stays down.

“Don’t be a fool,” Enjolras hisses as Eponine bullies Montparnasse out of the Musain. “Stay there, if not for God’s sake, than for mine!” Grantaire stays, but Enjolras is sure he hears him humming. He plops onto the floor beside Grantaire to rest and sure enough he hears a soft, catchy tune come from Grantaire.

“Blood sticks, sweat drips. Break the lock if it don't fit. A kick in the teeth is good for some…” He stops and glances at Enjolras with a wistful sigh. “A kiss with a fist is better than none.”

Enjolras feels something in his chest that burns like regret and stinks like guilt, except he has no idea what he regrets and why he feels so damn guilty about it. But, he thinks, letting Grantaire rest his head on Enjolras’ shoulder seems to make the feeling go away, so he goes with that and ignores the looks from the others as they all settle down.

* * *

It happens again a bit later, at a rally gone wrong. Enjolras is in the midst of getting tackled by officers and suddenly, he is not alone. For a terrifying moment, he thinks it’s one of his opponents but upon further inspection he realizes he recognizes those fighting techniques.

“Grantaire!” he screeches as the man is overpowered and brought down. He had moved the police off of Enjolras for a moment but they were back on him, dragging him away with a bloodied up Grantaire. They end up in the back of a drunk-trunk, handcuffed and painfully on their backs before Enjolras straightens out to see Grantaire leaning against the wall of the truck as they move.

“Fuck,” Grantaire mutters. His nose looks broken, but Enjolras is no Joly or Combeferre. He merely scoots over, his face melting from concerned into angered.

“What is wrong with you? There was no need for you to get involved and get hurt! There was no point and like all things, you didn’t think your action through and how it would affect others!” Enjolras yells.

“You’re fine,” Grantaire mutters.

“But _you’re_ not!” Enjolras screeches, surprised at how not-okay with that he is. “You’re not,” he repeats. “I don’t want you getting hurt for me.”

Grantaire looks at him for a moment and when he takes a deep breath, Enjolras knows what is about to happen. He isn’t dreading it though, more curious than anything. He has a feeling all of these songs mean something and has been writing down any of the lyrics he remembers for later investigation. So when Grantaire sings, “And if a double-decker bus crashes in to us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine,” Enjolras memorizes them. Either way, he thinks he would remember them because they move something deep inside of him at the devotion on Grantaire’s face as he sings the words with a sweet, low voice. Grantaire’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and finishes with, “There is a light that never goes out…” and trails off unable to finish as they go over a bump and he gets jostled.

“That was…” Enjolras stops. “Gorgeous. What is it?”

Grantaire looks horrified for a moment before saying, “Really, Apollo? You don’t know The Smiths?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I am _this_ _close_ to giving up.”

“Giving up on _what_?” Enjolras snaps in irritation, then regrets it as he sees how much pain Grantaire is in and all for him.

“Not you, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s like I said, _There is a light that never goes out._ ”

Enjolras doesn’t get it, but with that look on Grantaire’s face as the man realizes this, he really wishes he did.

* * *

It is literally the worst day in Enjolras’ year, he’s quite certain of that. He is staring at a failed paper from his poli-sci class, he didn’t get the permit he needed for his next rally, and to top it all off, it is the anniversary of his mother’s death and his father hasn’t bothered to call him at all.

He’s sitting in the back of the Musain, alone and feeling terrible, craving comfort but unsure how to ask and whether or not he would even be receptive to it. Someone walks in though, orders a drink and stops, seeing him slouched over and miserable. He prays for them to go the hell away as much as he prays for them to come closer. He gets his second wish, and whoever it is slinks towards him, sitting down in the booth beside him.

When he looks up, he’s unsurprised to find Grantaire sitting there, an Irish coffee in his hand. Enjolras had recognized his scent as he sat down, though he would never admit to that.

He does not ask why Enjolras is here or what he is doing. Instead, he cautiously slings an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders and starts to hum under his breath, clearly able to tell that Enjolras is not in a good mood.

“C’mon skinny love what happened here? Suckle on the hope in lit brazier. My, my, my. My, my, my. M-my, my. Sullen load is full, so slow on the split,” he sings softly. And it makes sense, is comforting, so Enjolras leans into him a bit and listens to whatever else the man has to say. “And I told you to be patient, and I told you to be fine. And I told you to be balanced, and I told you to be kind,” Grantaire continues. Enjolras swears he can hear the smile in his voice, and when he peeks up, he sees it, playing on the edge of Grantaire’s lips. It looks beautiful, hiding there among the lines around his mouth, the spots on his cheeks, his chapped mouth. There seems to be more to the song but Grantaire keeps it to himself, simply humming. After a few moments, Enjolras sits up.

He nods and clears his throat. “Thank you. That was unnecessary, but thank you.” He is not expecting the flash of hurt and anger on Grantaire’s face.

“Of course it was! You were clearly upset. What was I supposed to do, ignore you?” Grantaire snaps. “If you saw me in the same situation would _you_ ignore _me?_ ” Enjolras does not know how to answer and Grantaire swallows hard, a shadow of defeat hiding his face. “And now all your love is wasted,  
Then _who the hell_ was _I_?” he sings harshly, voice gruff as he leaves the table in a shoving rush, leaving his coffee untouched and cold where he had set it down.

Enjolras really needs to look into these songs, god damn it.

* * *

Grantaire does not speak to Enjolras for a while after that. Enjolras has no idea how to fix it. He tries talking to Grantaire, tries talking to their friends, but everyone seems adamant that he figures this all out on his own and Enjolras wonders what idiot thought leaving  _him_ alone with emotions and feelings was a good idea. He doesn’t want to be that arsehole, but it was probably Prouvaire.

“I am sorry,” Enjolras tries. Grantaire’s head snaps up.

“For what?” he asks. Enjolras panics then, because he doesn’t really know, is the thing. “If you don’t know, than how can you mean it?”

“I just… do?” Enjolras tries. He is so rubbish at this, it is bloody ridiculous.

“People are fragile things, you should know by now. Be careful what you put them through. People are fragile things, you should know by now,” Grantaire starts, a low singing growl in his throat.

“Grantaire-”

“You'll speak when you're spoken to,” Grantaire sing-snaps and Enjolras closes his mouth around his next words, the syllables dying in his throat. But Grantiare gets sad. “Sorry,” he mutters and looks away. In a final attempt, he sing-mutters, “It breaks when you don't force it. It breaks when you don't try.” He looks at Enjolras, begging him to understand and this time, Enjolras thinks he does.

“I’m starting to see that,” Enjolras responds. “So… I’m sorry for that.” There’s a moment of silence and then Grantaire smiles a teeny, tiny bit. Enjolras breathes out in relief.

So. They’re okay.

* * *

“So… what are you two, then?” Eponine asks, cornering Enjolras one day. He’s been getting closer to Grantaire, starting to slowly get a peek inside the other man’s head. Eponine has a point. What are they?

“I’m… not sure?” he admits. “Nothing I want to stop, that’s for sure.” It is a lot for him to admit, and she seems to understand this. She backs away, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side in thought.

“No idea though?”

“Well…”

“You’re a king and I’m your lion-heart,” Grantaire sings from behind the bar where he’s working on stirring someone’s drink. His voice is light and airy, melodious even, and a few people start to clap as he continues on with the song, throwing a wink in Enjolras’ direction.

Eponine blinks in surprise and turns to Enjolras. “Is this true?” she asks, a suspicious look on her face. But Enjolras cannot stop smiling.

“I won’t contest that,” he admits. It sums them up quite well. And he thinks he is beginning to understand what all of the songs have in common.

* * *

It’s at another rally, this one for LGBTQ marriage rights, that the rest of Les Amis hop into a song that Grantaire starts as they walk through the streets with a rainbow flag. It comes out of nowhere, Grantaire dropping his section of flag – thankfully in the middle so the damn thing doesn’t fall down – and runs out in front of them where they are bordered by people on both sides of the street. He runs, jumps, and does a front flip, springing out from his hands onto his feet to the crowds amazement.

Enjolras doesn’t even notice he has started singing until he hears, “And never did I think that I would be caught in the way you got me!” bellowed across the way. He looks up and Grantaire blows him a kiss. For a moment, Enjolras acts completely out of character and makes a show of catching the kiss with his hand and holding it up against his heart, throwing a smile Grantaire’s way. The other man is so surprised, he doesn’t finish the chorus of the song. But everyone else does.

“Girls love girls and boys!” Marius sings.

“And love is not a choice! I’m just a villain vying for attention from a girl!” Courfeyrac adds on, completely off tune, much to Jehan’s distaste.

“A girl who can't decide and here's the reason why!” Bahorel sings.

“GIRLS LOVE GIRLS AND BOYS!” the rest of them join in and there is a chorus of mediocre singers around him but Enjolras has only eyes on Grantaire. “SOPHISTICATED. MANIPULATED. GIRLS LOVE GIRLS AND BOYS.”

“And never did I think that I,” Grantaire says, joining back in, skipping and cartwheeling back to where the rest of them are marching and catching up. “Would be caught in the way you got me! Girls love girls and boys…” He gets close to Enjolras’ face, winks and turns back around running back to the cheering crowd and gesturing for them to finish it.

The whole lot of them practically scream, “ **AND LOVE IS _NOT_ A CHOICE!** ”

“If that is literally all you guys get from this, then we will be happy,” Grantaire calls out and Enjolras has a sinking feeling in his stomach that isn’t entirely unpleasant.

Love is not a choice. Huh. He’d have to think about that a bit more.

* * *

Grantaire shows up completely drunk one night to Enjolras’ flat and all Enjolras can think to do is call Eponine to let her know the idiot is safe and let him stay. Grantaire is giggling and falling around, which is how Enjolras knows he hasn’t had as much as he could have, since Grantaire usually gets depressed and extra cynical when he is well and truly drunk.

Grantaire is also doing what he usually does: he’s singing. This time it sounds like some kind of Lady Gaga parody because Enjolras is sure those are not the lyrics to Bad Romance. And then Grantaire is grabbing Enjolras’ face as Enjolras is trying to change him into something comfortable and singing right into his face, his breath smelling of beer and cigarettes.

“I’m totally stoked you’re coming over again. We’ll get fucked up and make pancakes again!” Enjolras smiles. Last time this had happened, they had made pancakes. It’s sweet that Grantaire remembers. But then the other man sings more softly, “I think that I’m in love with you, man,” and Enjolras stalls, his heart in his throat. He opens his mouth, to say what he doesn’t know, but then Grantaire is laughing drunkenly. “No wait, I’m just drunk. I need another beer man!” Enjolras sighs, but he isn’t sure if it’s in relief or disappointment. He just guides the man to his room and lets him have the bed. Alas, when he returns, Grantaire is dead asleep and Enjolras really sees no point in not sleeping on the bed as well because there is plenty of room. So he tries not to think of it too much, gets in bed, and falls asleep.

In the morning, he wakes up and Grantaire is nowhere to be found. He tries not to feel too bad, because the bed is a mess, mostly because Enjolras is a terrible sleeper and he wouldn’t want to sleep with himself if he were Grantaire either, especially if Grantaire remembered what he had sang to Enjolras. However, upon further inspection, he hears a soft, confused sound come from the floor and he looks over the edge of the bed to find Grantaire sprawled out with a confused look on his face.

“I’ve woken up on one too many floors,” Grantaire sings sleepily, stretching in nothing but a pair of boxers, his scars and tattoos exposed and gorgeous. “But my favourite was yours,” he finishes, smiling softly up at Enjolras, not seeming to remember anything. Then his face drops into something that looks vaguely traumatized and he stutters, “W-wait, are you not a dream-Enjolras?”

“No?” Enjolras answers.

“Aw crap.”

“You sing too much,” Enjolras decides, laughing and half hanging off of the bed.

“I _do not!_ ” Grantaire says adamantly. “Oh, and by the way,” he clears his throat. “My songs know what you did in the _DAAAAAAARK!_ ” he screeches. Enjolras knows what he’s referring to – the moving, the cover-stealing, the snoring and drooling – but he still blushes and throws a pillow at Grantaire’s face to get him to shut up.

“Stop. Singing.”

He only gets a muffled laugh in response.

* * *

There is a bit of a lull after that.  Things go back to normal, or the new kind of normal where Enjolras and Grantaire tease each other and ruffle each other’s feathers with a flirtatious edge. It’s new for Enjolras, so Grantaire gives him pointers, gives him space and time. He is so _patient_ and Enjolras could literally ask for nothing more.

He does however, hit a speed bump along the way to what he thinks is his final decision on all things _Enjolras and Grantaire._

“What,” he asks seriously and with an edge of belligerence to his tone, “is the difference between us?” Enjolras snaps one day, alone in his flat with Grantaire. “Between our views? You admit that my ideas could work, but then you tear them down without letting me have a chance to try. _Why?_ ”

Grantaire looks at him, a bit pained, and then sighs. “We've both been very brave, walk around with both legs, fight the scary day. We both pull the tricks out of our sleeves…” he sings and hesitates. And then: “But I'll believe anything, and you'll believe _in_ anything.” He stops and swallows hard, staring up at Enjolras with wide eyes, wishing to be understood and –

In that moment, Enjolras _does._ He kisses him.

Grantaire runs.

* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Combeferre asks, a tiny bit worried. Courfeyrac frowns and swats at him, Combeferre’s glasses going flying to the floor. Combeferre spares him a nasty look before he bends to retrieve them. “And what,” he asks as he stands and perches them back on his nose, “was that for?”

“Don’t discourage him!” Courfeyrac exclaims. “He’s finally settling down, getting a boyfriend, having sex god-damn-it Enjolras – doing something nice for himself!” There is a ridiculous look of happiness on his face.

Enjolras feels vaguely as if he is going to vomit.

“I’m doing it,” he insists. Currently, he is behind the curtain of the small stage at the Musain. Grantaire is working his bartending shift and has no idea who the entertainment for the night is, no matter how temporary. Enjolras is only doing one song before the actual entertainment sings their own set-list. As it is, they’re excited to do the background music for Enjolras, as they know the song well.

Enjolras had finally looked up all of those songs and read their meanings, or the public’s understanding of them. It finally all clicked: Grantaire wanted a chance with him because he was in love with Enjolras. And Enjolras had given him a chance and… well, he was quite sure he had fallen in love with Grantaire as well.

“Alright, you’re on,” Courfeyrac says, patting him on the shoulder. “Good luck.” Combeferre nods and leaves with him as the curtain goes up and Enjolras knows the exact moment Grantaire sees him because the sound of a shot glass falling and shattering against the floor is heard, accompanied by Musichetta’s irritated cursing.

“Hello,” he says to the crowd in front of him. He is not nervous, not about this. The thing he is nervous about is afterward, when Grantaire responds to it. “I’ve got a bit of a song for someone special here before the professionals take over.” A few claps and catcalls are heard and Enjolras merely hums in response as the music starts. He knows Grantaire is familiar with the song as it nears the time for him to start singing and the man’s eyes are wide. Good.

“And after the storm, I run and run as the rains come. And I look up. I look up. On my knees and out of luck, I look up,” Enjolras sings. He has been practicing his heart out for this the entire week and he is quite satisfied with the strong tenor of his voice as it carries across the café to Grantaire across the way. He sings some more, eyes closed mostly until he gets to the last chorus and he opens them, unable to look away from the open and broken look on Grantaire’s face.

“And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears. And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. Get over your hill and see what you find there, with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair…” He trails off as he finishes and the band-of-the-night do a bit of an instrumental before they stop and the song ends. The entire café is silent and then Grantaire is leaping over the bar and running across, before springing onto the stage and grabbing Enjolras by the shoulders. He leans in and freezes at the last moment.

“…do you permit it?” Grantaire asks, the words spoken this time, and not sung.

Enjolras smiles wide and presses his hand. And then he kisses him.

This time, Grantaire doesn’t run.

**Author's Note:**

> The songs here are (in order):  
>  _Take A Chance On Me_ by ABBA  
>  _Kiss With A Fist_ by Florence + The Machine  
>  _There Is A Light That Never Goes Out_ by The Smiths  
>  _Skinny Love_ by Bon Iver  
>  _Munich_ by The Editors  
>  _King and Lionheart_ by Of Mice and Men  
>  _Girls/Girls/Boys_ by Panic! At The Disco  
>  _Rad Bromance_ by The Station  
>  _There Is A Boy That Never Goes Out_ by The Lucksmiths  
>  _My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark_ by Fall Out Boy  
>  _I'll Believe In Anything_ by Wolf Parade  
>  _After The Storm_ by Mumford  & Sons
> 
> If I missed any, please feel free to inform me! The title also comes from _There Is A Boy That Never Goes Out_ by The Lucksmiths.


End file.
